


Unwilling to Admiration

by Lomonaaeren



Series: 2013 Advent Fics [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Advent, Angst, Engagement, F/M, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonaaeren/pseuds/Lomonaaeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One engagement ring. Two men who both want it. And one conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwilling to Admiration

**Author's Note:**

> : This is an Advent fic for NikolasKristopher, who gave me the prompt _Harry and Draco both looking for the same engagement ring for their future wives. Neither are willing to give it up. Draco for the history and prestige it holds and for Harry it is the only ring of that coloring. Some how they come to an understanding of what type of person the other is and respect and admire them for it. From there you can choose what happens_. Happy Advent!

  
**Unwilling to Admiration**  
  
Harry stares at Draco. Draco stares at Harry.  
  
On the table between them sits the shining black cushion, with the ring reposing on it. It is made of heavy gold, gold that can encircle and enchain. On the top sits a single ruby, cut so that it suggests a lion’s head without achieving it, the flow and circle of the mane, the delicacy of the great head.   
  
Harry looks down at the ring and reaches towards it. Draco holds out his hand and catches Harry’s wrist, intercepting the movement.  
  
“No,” Draco says quietly. “When Mr. Kleinen released this to us for an hour, it was on  _my_ recognizance, remember?”  
  
Harry looks up, and cocks his head as if he doesn’t know what the word “recognizance” means. There might be a flicker of contempt in Draco’s mind that breaks like a wave when Harry says, “Yes, I know, the anti-theft spells are linked to you. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t touch it and try to convince you to give it up that way.”  
  
Draco blinks once, slowly, lizard-like. “Why would  _that_ convince me to give it up?”  
  
“Because someone with dirty blood would have touched it,” Harry says simply.  
  
Draco stares at him, and then retracts his hand. Harry touches the ring, running his finger back and forth along the smooth gold, exhaling slow and hard. He can feel the thrum of magic, the striking up his finger almost to his shoulder. He swallows, thinking of what Ginny will look like wearing this ring, and his fingers flex towards it.  
  
“You know that you can’t appreciate the history of this ring the way you should,” Draco says, watching him, as if he really does expect Harry to agree with him.  
  
“I don’t know about that,” Harry says, and slides back into his chair on the other side of the table, his gaze going back to Draco as if he had never looked at the ring covetously in the first place. “After all, I’m quite the expert in magical theory now, and from what I understand, this ring has a lot to do with that.”  
  
Draco stares at him, and then stands up and goes to get another drink. They are in the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry looks around at the walls. They are stained, dark, but that just leads to his feeling of being shut away from the rest of the world with the person you bring here. There are few people here to see them and jump to the wrong conclusions.  
  
And he might have a chance to convince Draco to part with the ring and give it to him for Ginny.  _If_ he speaks well enough.  
  
“You can’t appreciate the history,” Draco says, coming back with his drink and slumping into his seat. It’s butterbeer, and he sips it slowly, letting the foam and the tingle rise to his lips before he wipes away the inevitable moustache. “It doesn’t matter how much magical theory you know.”  
  
Harry meets his eyes, and smiles. “But it surprises you that I know  _any_ , right?”  
  
Draco looks back, motionless. Then he reaches for his glass again, his hand passing near the ring and one finger brushing the gold. He sucks in his breath as he feels the same magic that so impressed Harry. With an effort, he keeps his attention on the conversation. “Yes, it does. Let’s see what you think magical theory has to say about this ring, if you’re really so up on it.”  
  
Harry nods and leans back, looking slightly over Draco’s head but not so much that he’ll miss the move if Draco tries to snatch the ring and run. “This particular ring is special because of the colors—which is why I want it for Ginny—but also because it has that ruby, cut so well to look so much like a lion’s head.” Draco doesn’t twitch, doesn’t flinch. “Rubies are actually more precious than diamonds, because they’re rarer, in some cases. And when they’re this color—the color that some people used to call pigeon’s blood—they’re most valuable of all. They can be used to secure good fortune if buried in the proper places. They were used as ornaments on weapons  _and_ on symbols of shielding and defense like sword scabbards. They contain such a great balance of magic, in consequence, that they can be used as both the basis for Dark potions and Light potions, and to create the two kinds of potions in the same cauldron.”  
  
Draco’s mouth falls open. Harry looks at him and smiles. “And the gold? Well, the symbolism of gold is too well-known for me to go into most of it. But it’s especially a symbol of fervent possession. There have been so many attempts to gain hold of even a little bit of gold, and alchemists who dedicated their entire lives to finding the formula that would turn lead into gold. Just like rubies, gold is affected by what people think of it. Its magical symbolism and power are obvious.”  
  
Harry reaches out and grazes one finger down the side of the ring. This time, he apparently ignores the jolt up his arm. “But gold is also malleable, so soft that it doesn’t make a good weapon most of the time. Here it is, this soft metal, this one that you can bend to your will, that’s also incredibly desired, holding a jewel that is at once offensive and defensive. The ring is a union of opposites, and it will take almost any spells that you care to name. Including the usual protection charms that are common work for anyone enchanting engagement rings.” Harry lets his finger fall away from the gold and leans forwards, smiling pleasantly. “You can see why I want it, for my wife, who will be in danger every day that she’s my wife. I know all that about it, and yes, I desire for itself. For the colors, too, but mostly for itself.”  
  
Draco shakes his head once. Then he says, “Very good, Potter. That’s exactly its history, and most of the reason I want it for Astoria, too.”  
  
“Most?” Harry lets his eyebrows rise, his eyes widen.  
  
Draco looks off to the side and sips his butterbeer. Harry waits. On the other side of the bar is a clock whose pendulum swings slowly back and forth, keeping a rhythm that has nothing to do with anybody’s heartbeat. __  
  
“I want it because it’s also a bonding ring,” Draco whispers at last. “That’s the part you missed. It’s such a perfect union of opposites that it’s supposed to guarantee a successful union. We—Astoria and I are opposites. We _need_ this.”  
  
Harry leans back in his chair again, arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face. “I thought you weren’t that much opposites. You’re both pure-bloods and of the same generation, aren’t you?”  
  
Draco laughs, then covers his mouth with one hand. A few heads turn towards them, then turn away again. The other people in the Leaky Cauldron at this hour have their own problems.  
  
“She’s two years younger than I am,” Draco says. “Two years that mean she was never in the war, she was never considered for being Marked. Her family—her family has always been lesser in prestige than mine, but they were neutral, or recorded officially as being neutral in the war, and since then,  _that’s_ the prestige.” His voice cracks down the middle.  
  
Harry says nothing. He has no reason to celebrate the continuation of pure-blood influence like the Malfoys’.  
  
Draco closes his eyes and finds his way forwards in the slow speech. “We’re not the same. Astoria reminds me every day how much more she has than me, that  _her_ family is doing  _mine_ the favor by consenting to let her marry into the Malfoys. We might still have more money than they do—I really don’t know. But prestige and a good reputation and how well you can kiss the Light wizards’ arses is what advances you in the Ministry nowadays, and they have more of that.” He raises his eyes to Harry’s again. “My father might never have it again.”  
  
“So you want the ring because you want your marriage to succeed?” Harry asks.  
  
Draco nods, and smiles, a smile that is the shadow of the one he would have given if they were still in school and discussing this. “She’ll never stop reminding me what I owe her, and that—that’s going to tear us apart. I want my marriage to succeed. I want to have children. I want to recover  _some_ of what the Malfoys were. Not for me, but for future generations.” He gestures at his left arm, hard enough to slop some butterbeer on the table. “With this thing I’m never going anywhere, but my sons or daughters might.”  
  
Harry looks at him. He’s chewing his lip.  
  
“That’s not something I’d thought you would do,” he says at last. “I mean, yeah, get married and have kids, but not for that motive.”  
  
Draco raises his eyelids slowly, so that someone sitting across from him can see more of his gaze than they would have up until then. “What do you mean?”  
  
Harry flinches a little, but says it. “I thought you would just go on whinging about your problems, and—I mean, that would mean you’d get married to Astoria and just spend the rest of your life complaining about how mean she was to you. But you’re taking steps to fix it.” He lets his gaze fall on the ring. “Steps that I didn’t know could exist.”  
  
Draco has to sip through a smile this time. “That makes you admire me a little, doesn’t it?”  
  
Harry looks at him full-on. “I don’t know. Does the fact that I know magical theory make you admire me?”  
  
Draco inclines his head, and for some time they sit in silence, the ring between them, Draco sipping his butterbeer and Harry cradling his empty hands on his stomach as though he can have what he wants if he just closes them in the right way. The silence between them is almost comfortable. More comfortable than the shouting session they indulged in in Mr. Kleinen’s jewelry shop, anyway.  
  
“What shall we do about this?” Draco is the one to ask finally, this time tipping his head in the direction of the ring.  
  
Harry sits up straight. “You can’t make the reporters and the other people I want to protect Ginny from go away,” he says. “And I can’t make your fiancée actually respect you and think about a union with you instead of reminding you what you owe her.”  
  
Draco shakes his head.  
  
“And I don’t think about you the same way I did before,” Harry continues, with hardly a pause in breath. “And I don’t—I don’t think you think the same way about me.”  
  
Draco puts his butterbeer carefully down on the table. This time, what he reaches out to touch is not the ring but the back of Harry’s hand.  
  
“No,” he says, very softly.  
  
They sit there looking at each other, and then turn to gaze at the ring. The suggestion of the lion’s head in the cut ruby has never been more delicate.  
  
*  
  
The ring sits on its cushion of black velvet in the display window of Mr. Kleinen’s shop, later that day. It still has an inherent mystical glow that makes the gold shine with power, thrum if one touches it. It still has its ruby, more valuable than a diamond.  
  
Mr, Kleinen has not sold it yet.  
  
 **The End.**


End file.
